


Look For Me

by Kpopbop



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, eyes on you, look - Freeform, look got7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kpopbop/pseuds/Kpopbop
Summary: The members of Got7 are split into different realities. Some of them are without knowledge of anything, their minds fogged by the reality they've been placed in, while others are trying to escape and find their brothers. One member is able to see where everyone is, but he is the most tucked away of all.





	1. Chapter 1

Once, we were seven pieces that made up a whole. Now, those pieces are split and lost, seemingly forever. We were never meant to be apart, and now that we're locked away we don't know who we are.

My friends and I are lost. I hope that they are thinking of me, like I am of them. I hope they feel the same as I do. I can see them, I can see they're desperate to return, that they're sick of these games. However, I can't see one of them, and that worries me the most. Where is Kim Yugyeom? Is he okay? I don't know why I can't see him, but it's driving me mad. I'm sick with worry. How did we end up like this? Will us pieces ever be fixed?


	2. Jackson

It was hot, even with the sun gone below the horizon. Every day was the same. Dry dirt, sand, sweat, rocky hills, and a tiny spring. No matter how far he walked each day, no matter if he never made a single turn, he would always end up there. He would start out at the spring with the sun rising in front of him, and hours later the sun would set behind him and he would find himself right back where he started.

Jackson Wang walked constantly for days. Or was it weeks? It could have even been months, but who knew? Time was funny to him.

He walked one day again, hoping this time something would be different. A hope he wished for every day, even though nothing had changed since day one.

Night covered the desert in a blanket, and the air grew slightly chilly. But Jackson wasn't happy even with the blazing heat gone. Instead, he was upset at what he saw. "Aish!" He cursed. "Why can't I win!" He was staring at the small spring again, where many trees grew and rocky hills erupted out of the ground for a good radius.

Jackson fell to his knees in disbelief, his black pants becoming filthy. "Oh, my stress!" He whined, cupping water in his hands. He sipped the water down, and it was cold and refreshing against his throat. Whenever he drank this his hunger and thirst would both disappear, which he found extremely weird, but he had lost interest in questioning the phenomenon many walks ago.

After refreshing himself from the spring, Jackson hopped into its pure ever-clean water and rinsed himself off from dirt and sweat. When he was done, the dark haired Wang rested at the base of a tree for a little while, but he had to keep going soon. He wasn't sure why, but somehow he knew that if he stayed at the spring for too long he would have no chance to escape from this hell.

However, he wasn't even sure what he had to go back to. Jackson tried and tried, but each time he searched his brain he couldn't remember anyone's faces or their names. He could just remember the feeling of pure happiness, and sometimes even hear voices of people that he assumed were his friends. He wanted to return to that. He yearned for those memories, and he desperately wanted more.

He stood up from the base of the tree, ready to begin his nightly walk, but as he stretched his back he noticed something in one of the lower branches above him. It was a small round lantern dangling by its handle.

Even though the vast amount of stars in the sky above him already gave plenty enough light, Jackson felt compelled to jump for it. He jumped a few times, his fingers barely missing the iron outing by a hair.

Ceasing his attempts, Jackson's brown eyes searched the desert floor for any fallen limbs or sticks to use as a tool to claim the lantern, but he should have known it wouldn't be so kind. The ground was bare of any such materials.

He stepped back a little to give himself a running start. When he jumped this time, he could touch its warm surface, but that wasn't enough.

Cursing in Chinese, he eyed the lantern desperately. If anyone were watching him, he would have given up with a cool attitude. "You're not gonna get it?" They would ask. "Nah, it's too high." He would have replied nonchalantly. "It likes the tree too much." He would have ended on a joking note. It was how he did things.

However, no one was around. No one would watch him struggle and fail. No one was there to joke to. He was completely alone. Jackson's life had been so predictable for so long that somehow he felt like this lantern was the change he craved for.

Out of one of the top branches of the tree, a bird swooped down, placing itself next to the lantern.

Jackson's mouth dropped in disbelief. "Are you mocking me?" He asked quietly. "Hey, can you help me?" The bird bounced a little on the branch, it's head twitching side to side. Then, it swooped down to Jackson's height, glided up the tree and landed next to the lantern again. "What?" Jackson squinted. He shook his head, clearing his mind. "I'm talking to a bird. Can you understand me? If you can, blink twice." The bird let out a chirp before swooping again toward Jackson and up the side of the tree. "Are you telling me something?" The bird did a third swoop. Then a fourth.

Jackson's eyes followed the bird, and then he seemed to form an idea. He rolled up his red sleeves, and examined the tree and the lantern. He stepped back a good distance, licked his lips in concentration, wriggled his toes inside his shoes, and stretched his fingers. Then he took off, a mad dash straight at the tree. Jackson felt as if the whole thing were in slow motion, but as soon as he reached the tree he took a step up its trunk, then another, then flipped himself backwards. He reached up in a split second and gripped the lantern in his hands, flipped over, landing perfectly on his feet, the bird in the air above him.

His face was aglow. He looked up at the bird that was happily flying in circles above him. To Jackson, it looked like it was dancing. "Right," he said, switching on a battery operated light. How pathetic. At least it had batteries inside.

He looked back up at the bird, who had perched itself on the branch once again. "Hyung, if you want, you can come with me?" He offered, still not sure if the bird could understand him. "You can fly when you want to, and sleep on my shoulder? I'm kind of tired of walking alone." He admitted defeatedly.

To his surprise, the bird glided down from the tree to his shoulder. With the lantern in one hand, the small bird beside him, Jackson felt better than he had in a long time.

He started his long walk again, knowing that the spring awaited for him in a few hours time.


	3. Youngjae

A man laid, as if drugged, on his back on the floor of a small room. Groggily, he pushed himself into a sitting position, and looked at the walls. It had been long gone from his memory what a door was, or that windows were more than just a painted design. Yet still, he continued-out of habit-feeling the walls for something.

Unsteadily getting to his legs, Youngjae let his fingers slide across the walls. He didn't realize he was looking for anything, but sometimes his hand would grab for something round. When his fingers passed over the paintings of the windows, he expected his fingers to fall from the fake frames to the glass. He paused and tried to backtrack, and when he ran his hand back over the fake window he just started walking dazedly again.

He was almost around the room again when he noticed a tilted picture frame on the wall. The background was yellow, and he could see the shapes of six boys, but their features were blurred. The only one that wasn't blurred was the seventh boy on the far right.

Youngjae stopped his movements and stared at the picture. His fingers twitched, his eyes starting to blink more and more frequently. With a big intake of air, the brunet snapped out of whatever daze he was in, and started coughing. When his throat relaxed, he rushed forward to the picture. He realized instantly that the one who wasn't blurred out was himself, and the six others...well...their names rested on the tip of his tongue.

"Brothers," he breathed, looking between the boys. Suddenly, he looked up. "Where am I?" He turned around, his eyes searching for something he could now remember. He was searching for a door.

Youngjae started humming to himself. It was just a method to help him calm down. "Is there a door~" he sang, then he moved to the windows, forgetting what had just happened in his previous state. "Please open, please open~" To find that they were nothing more than paintings on the wall, his stomach dropped. "Oh no, oh noo," he sang-songed.

Determined, he ran across the room, banging on the walls. "Hello! Help!" He called, his voice loud and echoey in the furnitureless room.

Youngjae kept at it until his voice grew hoarse, and seeing how trained his voice was that was something to accomplish. He stopped when he noticed he was straining his voice. He didn't want to damage his vocal cords.

He slid down the wall in tiredness. Out of the corner of his eye, Youngjae could have sworn he saw something move, but he shook his head. He must have gone crazy. He was already not sure where he was, or even much of who he was, but he had been certain of one thing: he didn't belong here.

He closed his eyes and put his elbows on his knees, and nestled his face in his arm for a second. He tried to think of his past, of the boys from the picture, but even that image was being erased from his mind. He glanced up at the picture frame to remind himself of their outlines, only to double take his glance. The picture frame had gone completely, and in its place was a wall-mounted bookshelf with books that Youngjae could only assume were filled with hundreds of blank pages.

Stunned, Youngjae gazed around the room. Maybe he had just mixed up the picture's location? But it was gone. Simply vanished. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed some other things had disappeared as well. The painted-on windows had completely erased themselves, a plant from the corner of the room seemed to have evaporated, and the wall color itself seemed to had become a different shade of blue-green.

"What?" He whispered to himself. This room was beginning to freak him out. "What's happening?"

He stood up, memorizing the room. When he turned around to face the wall, a mirror appeared exactly where he had been banging on, begging for help. It was a mirror of the room, alright, but then there was one thing that didn't make sense. Him.

In the reflection, Youngjae was doing something completely different than the Youngjae watching. He was calling out names, but whatever names the reflection him were calling, Youngjae couldn't make it out well. "Aaark! A-son? Beee! B-bam! Chin-ung! Oo-Gi-um??" The reflection was pretty much in tears as it called out each name one by one.

Then, reflection him went out of frame, but immediately appeared again, but from a different angle. This time, the reflection looked more disheveled, but something was off. The reflection had no life in its eyes as it walked around, his hand gliding against the wall. Without warning, the reflection Youngjae stopped and slumped down, a grin on his face and giggling mindlessly as his torso leaned over and rested his happy-go-lucky, stupidly happy face on the floor.

Youngjae's heart stopped. There was no mistaking it. That was him. And he knew it in his heart, too.

The brunet began banging his fist on the wall again. Youngjae made a conscience effort to put a few good feet between himself and the mirror. He called out for help desperately, all caution for his voice lost.

Hours past by. Soon, he forgot the portrait that had hung on the wall. Soon, he forgot that the walls had changed. He forgot what he had seen in the mirror, he forgot his fear of being mindless and thoughtless in this room. He forgot to scream and cry for help. His own name became nothing but a scattered memory to him.

He sat with his back to the wall, and in front of his eyes the room made a fake window again. This time, a little bird sat outside on the ledge, looking in on him.


	4. Mark

The apartment was blaring loud. What started off as a classy dinner party seemed to quickly become a load of drunk people acting like fools. Mark Tuan was no exception. He couldn't remember coming to the party, but he knew that when he arrived they were all gathered around a fancy dining table talking civilized. As the night grew on, it seemed like the amount of people had doubled, and the music slowly turned from classy to dubstep. The women's outfits became more scandalous and the males became looser and a even maybe a little trashy. The wine turned to beer somewhere along the way as well.

"Shot! Shot! Shot!" A group of people chanted. The person in the middle slammed a small shot glass down on the counter while the onlookers cheered. Mark's face was in a happy, bragging grin. He had just completed his seventh shot of a drink, the name of said drink unknown to him. The only thing he was sure of, was that it was strong. 

"Mark~!" A girl in a short blue dress called over the noise of the room. 

"Hey," Mark replied, his blond hair falling perfectly into place as he turned to face the girl.

"Seven empty shot glasses... How drunk are you?" The pretty girl asked in a flirtatious tone. 

Mark shook his head. "I dunno," he admitted.

The girl sat down next to him, propping her elbow on the table, leaning her face gently on the fingers of her closed wrist. "You're a party king." She smiled. 

Mark agreed with a nod, his legs spinning him slightly in his rotating bar stool of a chair. "I feel like I've been doing this my whole life."

"Done what your whole life?" The girl questioned. 

Shrugging Mark sighed. "This," He gestured to party going on around him. 

The girl started laughing. "That's those shots talking, darling." She stood up and outstretched her arm toward him. "Wanna dance?"

What felt like thirty minutes later, Mark made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a solo cup and took it to the sink, where he filled it with water. He was tired from dancing, and he was growing sick of alcohol. 

Silently, he made his way onto the terrace, the cold wind in his face very refreshing after being in the hot and crowded apartment. He leaned over the railing, his solo cup in hand as he watched the stars, the noise of the party behind him. Thankfully he could actually hear his thoughts out here. 

It was the first time that night he had actually felt at peace, but yet, standing there, Mark felt a bit of deja vu. "It's the alcohol talking, Mark." He paraphrased the girl from before, shaking off that brief moment. There was nothing to have deja vu about.

He set his water down on the railing and combed his fingers through his hair, watching headlights go by many floors below him. 

Even though he appeared sober, he was-at the least-very tipsy. However, with each sip of water he could feel his thoughts clarifying more and more. 

The girl from before stepped out onto the terrace. "There ya are, Markie~!" It looked to Mark like she had gotten more slammed since he left her. "Whatchu out here for? Come on, have some fun!" She took his hand, yanking him back in. For someone so mindlessly drunk, she was very strong. 

"What time is it?" Mark asked her.

She turned around to face him. "Time? What's that? Oh my god, you must be so drunk you're making up words!" She laughed. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you."

Upon entering the apartment again, Mark's head turned wildly around, very aware of the sudden change in his surroundings. The blaring music had ceased, and instead was replaced by the same classical music that was playing when he arrived. "Where is everyone?" He asked. The seventy or so people who were here before had vanished, along with the mess he knew the apartment would have had. 

"They're in the dining room." She replied. But when he entered the dining room, there were only eight people sitting down, two empty chairs left. 

The girl pulled out a chair and guided the befuddled Mark to sit. "What happened to everyone else?"

She semi-sat beside him, her arm around his neck. "Hey, are you okay? Here, have a drink." She guided a glass filled with wine to his mouth, and tipped the glass, her face an expression that Mark felt weary of.

As the wine went down his throat, Mark squinted at the taste and the girl fully sat in her chair, her hands to herself. 

"So, how are you guys?" Mark prompted the table. "It's been a long time." 

"Too long," the girl in the blue dress beside him agreed. 

Mark smiled. "You've grown up a lot, you know?" 

"So have you." She sipped her glass, and Mark took another sip from his own. 

As the night went on, something changed in the music. It went from classical to a piano and vocal cover of a pop song. Soon the music escalated to Boombayah by Blackpink, and about fifty guests were jumping to the loud music, drinking their heads off, or having a casual chat in the corner. 

"Shot! Shot! Shot!" A group of people chanted. In the middle, Mark Tuan slammed down his seventh drink. The girl came up to him again, talking casually, asking about how much he had to drink, then asking him to dance.

Mark found his way away from the party, went to the kitchen, grabbed himself a solo cup, and filled it with water before escaping to the terrace. Sitting out there, under the stars, headlights of cars passing floors beneath him, Mark got a strange sense of deja vu. He shook it off. What was there to have deja vu about?

Beside him, a bird flew down onto the railing. He reached out as if to pet it, but it hopped out of his reach, but it still sat beside him, watching him.

He let the bird sit in peace and took a sip of water before he heard a commotion behind him from the party, even with the music on full volume and the crazy seventy guests losing their minds. 

"Mark!" A voice screamed. Mark turned around to see a couple big bouncer-looking guys trying to push a tall blond man (who was fighting with all of his strength) out of the apartment, the blond's eyes deadly serious. "Maaark!" He looked Mark dead in the eye. "I found you, hyung!"


	5. Bambam

He burned the rose while a girl stood in front of him, sobbing. "Why would you do that?" She cried. She took the liberty to stomp on Bambam's foot before running out of the garden. 

Flinching, Bambam watched the flower petals turn to ash and crumble. He tossed the rose to the ground and walked into the florist shop, plopping himself down on the old counter.

"How do I get out of here?" He drummed his fingers on the counter's wooden surface. He looked outside, where he could barely see the dying embers of the flame. "Hyungs...Yugyeom." Bambam sighed, thinking of his friends. 

What was the situation like, he wondered? Was it only him who was missing? Or are there more? Was everyone gone? These thoughts scared him the most, but scared was good. He felt like if he weren't scared, he'd forget about his friends. He was always on edge, always rearing to get away from here and find his friends. If there was a way out, he just hadn't found it yet. He refused to give up hope.

Bambam stood up, unable to sit comfortably any longer. Each time any girl gave him a flower, he grew more and more anxious to leave. The girls looked innocent enough, but he knew they were trouble in disguise. 

He went into the garden again, and for what felt like the millionth time he walked its perimeter. His eyes glanced over each root, looking for a way out. Of course, he could have just left the way the girls did. That was, if the gates would open for him. He even tried to follow a girl or two out before, but they would push him back with more force than what could have been expected, and close the gates before he could slip out. 

There was no weak link in the fence, and it was too dangerous to climb. He should know, he tried it one time and nearly pierced his hand through at the top, and nearly broke his leg when he tried to get down. He had even tried to dig at the ground, but no matter how long he dug for, he would only get a fingers length into the dirt. 

This was insane, and Bambam knew it. He slowly returned to the florist shop and slumped into the small bedroom. He flopped down onto the old bed and laid there, his arms spread out as he gazed at the ceiling. "Hyungs, find me." He whispered to himself, wishing desperately that somehow they could hear his pleas and rescue him. 

Bambam rolled over on his side. "For all I know, this could all just be one bad dream. I could be in a coma," he mumbled. He yearned to be petting one of his cats as he spoke, but that just made him feel even more lonely than he felt before. 

 

The next day, he woke up to sunlight peeking through the broken blinds. He walked out into the shop and sat on the counter again, his long thin legs crossed as he blinked to adjust his eyes to the massive amount of sunlight shining in. 

After taking a moment to wake up a little more, Bambam got off of the counter, but on the other side. He grabbed a clean pot, a hose, and a teabag from a drawer. How teabags got there, he didn't know, but there was quite the load of them. He filled the pot with water, stuck the teabag in, and threw it into an old microwave. Again, he had no idea why there was a microwave behind a florist counter, but he wasn't complaining. 

The clanking sound of a metal fence got double B's attention. He rolled his eyes. It was too early in the morning for this. He could already see a girl about his age in a pretty pink dress bounce along the garden, a blue rose in her hand. 

Quickly, Bambam moved to lock the door. But that only made the annoyance wait outside. 

Knock knock knock. "Bambam?" Knock knock knock. "Come out, silly, I know you're in there!" Knock knock knock.

The microwave beeped, and the red haired Thai took his tea and moved back to the bedroom, where the girl's pleas and knocking wouldn't be so annoying. 

Ten minutes? Thirty, even? However much time had passed, the girl was still at. Bambam finished his now cooled tea before sighing. All right, he gave in. He had to leave the florist shop at sometime or another, so he couldn't avoid her forever. He unlatched the florist door and the girl stepped in happily, as if she hadn't just been robotically banging on the door for hundreds of seconds. 

"Bambam! I'm so glad I caught you here! I was worried I might have missed you~!" She played with her long hair. "I actually came by because...well, because I need to tell you something." She giggled. 

"You like me," Bambam sighed before she could get out her words. 

"I like you~!" She continued as if the male had never said anything. "If you like me too, please accept this flower!" She bowed her head and held the flower out. 

Carelessly, Bambam took it, but what he also took was a lighter from his pocket. Instantly, the rose was in flames. The pink girl had a startled, terrified face. She sniffled, "You could have just said no!" before she ran out crying. Again, double B tossed the rose to the ground. He heard the sound of the gate open and close and he took a breath, mindlessly perching on his favorite spot. 

That was when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A flash of green went by the window, and instantly knocking began on the door again. 

This puzzled Bambam. Never had two girls come so quick in succession before.

"Bamble Bee!" 

He about fell off of the counter. What kind of a nickname...?

He opened the door to find another girl with another rose, the old rose turning to embers by their feet. 

"Please accept this flower as an acknowledgement of my love!" She bowed straight out, holding the flower up toward him. Without even taking it, he whipped his lighter out and began burning the rose. It was as if the roses themselves were made out of gasoline, how they burned up. The girl dropped it, shaking her hand, a disgusted look on her face. She scrunched up her face, slapped Bambam, then skipped away. 

Bambam cradled his cheek with one hand, and shut the door with his other. There should be no more girls coming his way any time soon. 

Knock knock knock. 

All day, as soon as he would sit down, a girl would come up to the florist door. Eventually, he ended up not even trying to sit, and by sunset he would just stand in the doorway, watching the girls come and go, come and go. What had caused the sudden change in the pace of the girls? Was it because he had taken so long to respond this morning? No, that couldn’t have been it, he’d done that so many times already. 

The area smelled sweet and horrible at the same time. The ground was littered with ashes and remains of the roses. 

Bambam was exhausted and bruised. Girls all day would either simply run and cry, or hurt him in some way. It almost broke his heart to see them cry, but there was something that didn't seem quite human about them. That something kept scaring him away. 

As the sun continued to lower, Bambam just about locked up for the night, ready to ignore any and all banging on the shop for some slumber. He plucked his lighter back into his pocket and started to shut the door as he watched a small bird flutter up onto the roof of the florist shop.

"BAAMBAAAAAAM!" His heart jumped at the sudden noise, but then it felt as light as a feather. He knew that voice. 

"I'M HERE!" He yelled back, running away from the florist shop, hope once again in his heart.


	6. JB

“Have you ever been invisible? No one notices you’re there at all, no matter how much you want them to look at you. 

“That’s my life right now. It’s like I’m a spirit, but I refuse to believe that I’m dead. Because I know for a fact that I’m alive.” JB told a small bird beside him as he watched the sun lower beyond the horizon. “You can’t see me either, can you?” He wondered. The bird showed no sign that it saw him, or even-for that matter-that it didn’t see him. 

He didn’t know the town when he first arrived, but now he could tell you each street by name. It was a small area but it was urban enough to have a few large corporate buildings touching the sky. 

Cyclists sped through JB-literally, through him. They continued on, not knowing that anything had just happened, but JB wavered a little bit, still not entirely used to being almost nonexistent. “I’m not dead,” JB reminded himself. He leaned back onto the bridge, the bird hopping along the concrete wall. Looking at the little bird, he grinned. What would it be like to have no worries like that?

Feeling the need to move, Jaebum found himself walking down the sidewalk until the bridge was behind him. He looked down the steep green hill that led to the water, listening to the crashing of waves that made the area feel rather peaceful and relaxing, as opposed the the constant amount of stress he has been under since he arrived here. Wanting to be closer to the source of peace, JB made his way down the steep hill, and even though he didn’t need to be cautious, he still acted as if he did as he took one step slowly after the other down the slope.

He almost lost his balance at the bottom of the hill, but to his relief he managed to fall backward, into the soft grass, instead of face first into the water. 

He sat there, the wind blowing through his mullet, tickling his neck, and watched over the calm waters from a closer view until he closed his eyes. He felt as if he could almost fall asleep where he sat. 

JB was almost completely at peace until chirping noises sprung up beside him. His eyes opened up wide, and he stared at a bird. Had it followed him from the bridge? But, that was impossible wasn’t it? 

“Can-can you see me?” He asked it. He almost expected the bird to talk back, but to his understanding, birds could not speak. He almost wished they could, though, because if it could confirm that he was alive, that would be everything he needed to keep him from giving in to the delusion. 

“Ahhh,” he sighed, turning away from the bird. “Why can’t I get out of here? Where are my brothers? I hope they haven’t given in.” 

The bird bounced closer, but JB was still not convinced that the bird could see him. Actually, it was more like he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to convince himself that he might be visible to something if it weren’t true. 

“Alright, alright. You win. I’ll leave you!” He spoke really loudly, hoping that if he did, the bird would react in some way. But it just hopped there, and JB felt himself get disappointed. 

Wanting to be away from the bird, he started to move up the steep hill, but his foot slipped almost instantly, and he stumbled back, falling back first into the water. 

He expected a rush of water in his lungs, a suffocating sensation, but when he submerged he was extremely shocked to say that he wasn’t affected. When he calmed down, he stayed below the water for a moment, taking in the scene. His eyes weren’t burning from the water, his lungs weren’t dying for air, yet he could taste the saltwater on his tongue. His tan jacket didn’t seem wet, although the could tell that it was floating beneath the water.

He stood up in the water, and put himself above the surface. JB touched his hand to his hair. Dry. His shirt, his jacket, dry. His pants, also dry. “I’m not dead,” he told himself, his eyes becoming not so dry. “I know this is a trick. I know this place isn’t real.”

A fish swam through him, and JB held onto his emotions as best as he could. “I’m still alive.” He repeated his mantra. 

He climbed out of the water, and walked past the bird, who began chirping. When Jaebum had finished climbing himself up the hill and had reached the sidewalk again, he felt as if the fake world around him was closing in on him. What if he really was dead? But what if he wasn’t, and giving into his deepest fear trapped him like a ghost forever? How would he ever get the chance to see the rest of Got7 again if that happened?

Up in the sky above him, the bird flew lazily in circles, hovering and watching below. JB paid no attention to the bird, not in the mood to care about it anymore.

“I’m still alive,” he dully repeated, slowly strolling down the sidewalk, unaware that he was no longer walking on the sidewalk. “I’m still alive.” He was so invested in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize there was a car before him. 

Headlights bright in the setting evening, if JB wasn’t so consumed in his thoughts, he normally would have blocked the lights with his hand, squinting, until he realized what was going on and jumped out of the way. But this wasn’t the case. He only became aware of the car as it sped through him, leaving Jaebum to stumble and feel an icy lapse in his body where the car hit. 

He remained where he stood until his knees buckled, his legs slamming against the warm pavement. He knew that he had given up, any grasp he had on his chant had been stolen by the car. “I, I’m not ali-”

“JB!” A voice called from somewhere around him. “Hyung hyung hyungi!” 

JB’s brown eyes glanced around until they landed on a long, skinny, blond. Stunned, JB didn’t know what to say for a moment, and a rush of pure joy and happiness spread from his chest to the rest of his body. Then, JB screamed back his brothers name.


End file.
